Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Beta reader: Chameleon

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: highly appreciated

Chapter 20 – Taking Leave

Snape (as well as the other Death Eaters) had been bound to Voldemort by means of the Dark Mark. Harry thought that Snape had felt Tom fighting Harry in Diagon Alley, without really knowing what had been going on. Had Snape felt Tom raving again when Hogwarts had started its little game? In Diagon Alley it had been obvious. Would it always be as easily sensed by the ones bound to the original mark when Tom and Harry had a… disagreement? Although, now that Tom had calmed down from his earlier protests, anything Snape might have felt should be gone. Had Snape even felt a backlash of whatever the castle had been doing? And if so, could anyone who had received the Mark have felt Hogwarts' magic rip through the bond; tracing it back to its new source before its retreat? Harry could not remember if the mark he now sported had reacted to the violent magic in any way. If it had, that certainly explained why Snape looked like he wanted to curl up in a corner – well, not Snape. He would rather kick at anyone getting in his way in order to take out the brunt of his own misery.

Harry stopped watching the Potions Master and lowered his head. Either way, Harry could not have done a thing about it. Smirking, he turned back to his food. He pulled the plate back to him to poke a bit more at the now unidentifiable stuff – it had endured way too much poking to survive with its outer appearance intact. Harry shook his head and glanced back. Probably the git was just thinking about him and the spoilt life he lived with his Muggle relatives. This year, Harry would get back at him – well, as soon as he was not as tired as now. Harry's smirk widened unconsciously. There was always something worth living for, even if it was only antagonizing Snape until he was the one to lose control for once. It would be fun to watch, if he could hold his eyes open long enough.

Exhaustion, another thing Harry did not want to think about. He was so tired that if he so much as imagined lying down, he would be asleep. Not even a brisk walk on the ridge of the roof – in a thunder storm – would be able to keep him awake. With eyelids as heavy as mountains, he nodded to Ron. Harry did not know what the redhead had said just a moment before, but it must have been good. He grinned when his friends laughed out loud. Even Neville hid a smile and Hermione stopped thinking of books – for an instant at least.

"Did I say something funny?" It was good to see his friends laughing for once, even if it probably was at his expense. He did not really care. All he wanted was to simply walk out of the hall and go to bed now.

"No, Harry." United they shook their heads and laughed. "We just think you should go to bed as fast as possible." Hermione smiled, her eyes laughing still.

"That's what I told you, remember?" Inside, Harry heaved a longing sigh. Any bed would be welcome. How long until he could drop into one of those wonderful soft beds they have here? He rather liked those beds a lot; much better than his own lumpy mattress back at Privet Drive. Additionally, he would not have more dreams about Voldemort's ill sense of humor and blind revenge any longer. Tom was safely put away. There was no chance he could get out of there, and sleeping meant Harry would not have to think about anything. To make his evening perfect, Harry just needed to go to bed.

Just as he was about to doze off happily, Harry jumped back from the table when plate, food and everything else abruptly popped out of existence. He was no longer sensitive to the magic at work in the Great Hall. No pain was a good thing. He did not feel so much as the familiar tingling around his body, but sensing nothing at all was not really appreciated. Thinking and feeling nothing would go well with him in his state of mind (having been pulled back and forth once too much today); Harry stayed sitting and watched with a somewhat dull expression as the other Gryffindors rose to leave. Both of his friends – especially Hermione – climbed from their places to gather the first years and help the new fifth year prefects.

Having been occupied with a stupid lost doll (topped with the castle's quite strange and painful way of welcoming him back into its halls) Harry had missed not only the Sorting Hat's song – again – but also the announcement of the prefects as well. However, as they did not seem to be anyone he knew by name, it did not cause his skin to itch – not like the year before. It had been somewhat of a sore point to have both of his best friends being chosen as prefects, when he had been left empty handed. This year; however, having them performing prefect duties would prove to be to Harry's advantage. They would be so busy that he will have a little bit more space to breathe and time to prepare for what was to come without them constantly watching over him.

Since Harry had not kept his attention on the first years the entire time during the part of the sorting ceremony he had been present for, he did not know who was sorted into which house. Now he watched the new Gryffindors walking proudly and wide eyed in a crowd, so as not to lose their way on their first day of school. Alas, he could not see the head of dark curls he had been hoping to find. Harry had taken a liking to the girl somewhere along the way from a lost doll to the castle. He did not know why; perhaps, it was because she had looked as lost as he felt much of the time in his life.

He could see neither child nor doll anywhere in the mass of people surging out of the Hall in the direction of the Gryffindor tower. She might have been sorted into one of the other houses then. Maybe better for her. People he did not get close to tended to live years longer than those that he did. His eyes radiating the darkness of his thoughts, Harry blinked away any regret he felt and grinned yawning. If the little girl was sorted into one of the other houses, it would certainly make Ron's year a little easier. It would be hard for Ron to keep an eye on the little sister of Ginny's boyfriend all of the time as he had promised his mother he would do. He had a good enough excuse now; he could not possibly enter the other House's dorm. Ron had more luck than he deserved to get out of his task this easily.

Harry looked down to where Ginny and her friends – together with the banes of Harry's existence, Colin… and junior Nik – were rising from their seats. Ron's sister did not seem to agree with the choices made by the professors. Harry had not known she wanted to be a prefect herself. However, the looks she currently was giving the new prefects clearly showed her distaste and did not promise a close friendship. Harry averted his eyes when a group of fifth years passed his position. He did not want another conversation with Junas Brado; his stomach agreed with him. Bending down to gather his shoelaces and remains of consciousness, Harry sighed. He felt relieved when he saw the group of feet leave the Hall without coming to a halt next to him.

Unfortunately, he was certain he had recognized Ginny's worn boots slowing down and coming dangerously close to stopping. In a feeble attempt to avoid the girl, Harry had sunk down even more to hide like no true Gryffindor would have. However, even a Gryffindor could take only so much. Not even the Gryffindor in Harry was up to another challenge before he had slept for at least ten hours. As he got up, relief was obvious in his tired – nevertheless satisfied – expression. Harry jerked around rapidly when he felt a rather hard pat on his back. He breathed out again; clearly more awake now than moments before.

"That was a nice one, Harry." Seamus smiled and winked to his friends. "I wouldn't have wanted to talk to him right after eating myself." Seamus followed the retreating backs with his eyes; clearly focused on the brightly gleaming pink head that stood out among all the brunettes, blondes, blacks and the carroty red one they were used to seeing.

"Thanks, Seamus." Harry grinned. "I thought so myself." There was no sense in disabusing Seamus of his wrong conclusion. Looking around into the now somewhat serious faces, Harry frowned darkly. "What are you guys still doing here?" He looked from one to the other. Only Neville had the sense to look guilty, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

Seamus opened his mouth, certainly to say something ridiculous. This time Dean stopped him before he could make a fool of himself… or more likely someone else. Harry was rather grateful to Dean. Seamus' humor was alright. It was just another way to cope with everything the war kept dropping down on their doorsteps. In Harry's opinion, it was one of the better, healthier ways to keep one's head on one's shoulders and the mind out of depression. Something Harry would gladly point out – if anyone would think to ask him about his opinion.

Shrugging, Dean delivered their explanation with an indulging and slightly apologetic expression. His eyes showed his agreement with whatever they had discussed while Harry had been… pouring over the same thought repeatedly during dinner.

"Hermione said," Dean let him know, "we're to bring you safely to bed, so you don't do something to get yourself into trouble. Like falling asleep walking and lose your way, so you end up in Slytherin territory."

"She did what?" Honestly, Harry felt moved by it. Only Hermione could think of something like that. It did not feel all that bad to know that there were people who truly cared about him. However, he did not have to like it.

"She made us swear on our honor as wizards." Seamus grinned. Harry thought he must find it funny. Seamus appeared to wait patiently until Harry was ready to go.

"On your honor as wizards, huh?" Harry shook his head in dull amusement. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It would not be bad having company along the way. It would be less likely for something bad to happen if he was surrounded by his friends. He also hoped the corridors would not seem as long as when Harry was on his own – with Hogwarts.

"Well," Harry decided to go with Hermione's friendly suggestion of company (even if he was not given much choice), "let's go already. I don't want to keep you away from that welcoming party they're throwing in the common room."

This party was the seventh years' responsibility, but due to the use of heavily spiked butterbeer (and a lot of dirty talk) only the sixth and seventh years were allowed to attend until the very end. Fifth years and younger were driven out of the common room about half past ten. They spent the rest of their first night hiding in their respective dormitories. Even so, it was a sight to see, or better yet to hear. Every year the silencing spells tended to dissipate around midnight. Either the students were too drunk to keep them up, or the teachers knew and tolerated these parties… at least until midnight. Then McGonagall tended to storm into the common room with that stern, but friendly, look of hers and would send the remaining students to their dorms. Harry figured that similar parties were going on in each of the House common rooms this night. He wondered if they were also shut down at midnight. After all, something like that could not possibly be kept hidden from the professors.

Harry cringed inwardly at the ruckus they were all about to face as he started to make his way toward the exit of the Hall – Neville, Dean and Seamus quietly moving along with him. Harry idly began to wonder if his three escorts questioned why Hermione thought it necessary that they keep him company. Neville ended the silence quite suddenly as he shyly asked Harry if he intended to join the party. Harry had thought the boy had overcome this part of himself during the last year. Neville had been quite confident then, quite sure of himself. Where had the Neville from the Ministry of Magic gone to now? This was the first thing Neville said to him without being spoken to first. Harry watched him silently before another yawn made him shake his head with amusement.

"No, Neville," he declined politely. "I don't think you'd want to carry me to my bed. But, if you really do want to," he said teasingly, "I'll pop in for a few moments – just a minute or so." Suddenly serious, "Actually, you can pick me up from in front of the hearth – where the party is the thickest."

"Why there?"

"Simple." Harry smirked, his eyelids drooping and staying dangerously low. "Nobody would think anyone could sleep there. So they won't try to wake me up. They'll believe I'm just too drunk to keep my eyes open." Harry blinked tiredly. "Believe me, I can sleep anywhere."

"I'll make it my thing to wake you then, Harry." Seamus put his arm around Harry's shoulder. No one noticed the slight, instinctive flinch Harry fought down instantly. He endured the comradely touch longer than he would have thought himself able. Seamus only meant well, after all. Harry would have to learn to trust people again, but he would do it later. He thought the day had given him much more to handle than one day could give.

He was already taking deep breaths of relief when he saw Professor McGonagall heading straight in their direction. The expression she wore looked as tight as the bun that adorned her graying head. Harry stopped suddenly as if in surprise; glad that Seamus let go of him. The other boy followed his gaze back to their approaching professor. At least, Harry thought, he would have an excuse for not going to the party. There would be no need to play the happy little Gryffindor for his friends.

"I think I'll have other company on my way back to the dorm, guys." The three boys just stared at the advancing woman. Harry used that opportunity to really look at his three friends, or more precisely, their expressions. He doubted that they knew anything about Harry's adventurous summer kidnapping. If they did, they would have asked him already. In addition, a story like that would not have stayed secret for very long. Every student would have heard before they ever returned to the school. However, no one seemed to know. The gazes and stares he had gotten from the student body in general were the normal one's he got every year. There had been no whispers or sneers – well, except for Malfoy. But that was another story all together.

Harry shifted his examining gaze to his head of house, he doubted that she had been given much more than vague information. Dumbledore could talk for hours and actually say nothing. Harry did not know how Dumbledore had managed to keep the press, and with it the rest of the general wizarding population, from the knowledge of his disappearance over the summer. However, he had done it; which showed that the old man was able to stop information from getting out if it was in his own best interest. Stupid manipulative bastard. His face calm, Harry continued to watch his head of house as she came to a stop right in front of their little group of Gryffindors. His friends fidgeting nervously. Harry was slightly curios, but tired – for the most part.

"You go on to your common room, gentlemen," she said in a curt tone. His friends nodded after a slight moment of hesitation, though they lingered back. Seamus ventured to inform the professor that they were supposed to be ensuring their exhausted fellow Gryffindor made it back to their common room. Neville shot carefully measured glances from his stern looking teacher to the patiently waiting Harry.

"I'm sure I'll be able to see Mr. Potter safe, Mr. Finnigan." Harry thought she sounded suspiciously thankful to have some of his fellow students looking out for him. Suspicious of his head of house, Harry started to narrow his eyes. Finding himself under a piercing gaze, he stared at her with the tired boredom he had assumed most of the day. He felt a good bit of confusion about what he could have possibly done already to deserve being called to the headmaster's office since that usually was what prompted these little talks with his head of house.

With a forbidden expression, the Headmistress sent the boys on their way before she took Harry to the side. The older woman watched impatiently as his friends made their way out of the Hall. They were barely gone when Harry found himself under the weight of her piercing gaze. Something akin to pity showed in her eyes. Harry did not like pity very much. Perhaps this was just worry? His ability to read emotions was slightly muddled. His exhaustion affected him more than his recent inability to recognize the correct colors of a person's aura. Harry refrained from responding, choosing instead to just wait and see where this talk was going to lead. After another long moment of silence, during which he was scrutinized up and down rather… uncomfortably, Harry waited for his professor to explain why she had come to him.

"You're looking ill, Mr. Potter," she announced bluntly. "Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Harry blinked in surprise. He had not thought she would mention his health of all things.

"I'm not sick, Professor. I'm tired." He gave her his most innocent smile. Harry knew it would charm at least McGonagall into backing down a bit. If his personality had been more like Neville's, he could have simply averted his eyes to the floor as if finding the stones really interesting. Harry Potter was not known as shy. He stared at her, willing his professor to get on with it already and leave him be.

"Well, see to it that there isn't more, Mr. Potter." Her eyes narrowed and worry clearly showed through her stern mannerism. "If you are not feeling better in a day, see to it that you visit Madam Pomfrey. She is here for a reason."

"Yes, Professor." Harry said in his brightest and cheeriest voice he could muster. He managed to stop his eyes drooping from exhaustion.

"Be certain that you do." She looked at him as if she could make him go to the hospital wing simply by her good intentions alone.

"I'll do it, Professor." However, Harry felt he was not actually swearing to it since he kept the true meaning of his words to himself.

"Well, Mr. Potter. Down to the matter at hand." Harry waited wide eyed. A feat which he was really proud of the longer that day went on. He longed for his bed, though.

"Here. I have your schoolbooks you require for your courses, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry smiled sweetly. Was he not the nice Gryffindor they all love and adore? "Doing this for me was really nice, Professor." Her expression became warmer. She began to look less like she was going to bite someone's head off (though the bun was still just as tight). Harry hid his smirk as he accepted the obviously shrunken bag. It was small enough to easily fit in his cupped hand.

"You will want to enlarge them at an opportune moment, Mr. Potter." Harry noticed at once that the harshness was gone from her voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt guilty playing with peoples' emotions like that, although he would still do it if given the choice again. It was better than long explanations and discussions about the reason he looks the way he does. He did not want to deal with the possible consequences. The Slytherin in Harry could understand the need for keeping some things secret. Hiding his emotions had helped him in the past more than he cared to admit.

"Do you know why you were not allowed to go to Diagon Alley?" The professor sounded subdued. Perhaps she really could understand what it meant for a youth to be prevented from having any fun. She had been a teacher many long years now. It was rather sad that she seemed to get all the thankless jobs Dumbledore did not want to do himself. Well, all that did not involve killing or spying. For those, Harry was sure Dumbledore used other options he had convenient. Blinking, Harry returned to the here and now.

"Yes, Professor." He took on a subdued tone for effect. "Hermione and Ron told me something of what was going on. But, I'm not sure I understand everything." He managed to look confused, innocent and pitifully curios all at the same time.

It seemed as though the professor could hardly restrain herself from patting him on his head or giving him a pity hug. She looked like she did not know exactly what to do for a moment, though Harry was certain she would return to her stern manner any moment now. He did not want to hear her explanation. Harry knew the truth already, and was not interested in anything else. However, it could not hurt if he practiced his story at least once, before heading for the headmaster's office. He offered his head of house his own version with an innocent look as though he accepted every word of it.

"Headmaster Dumbledore didn't want me in Diagon Alley – even with the assistance of the Aurors – because of the dark activity and Voldemort's growing strength during the summer." Harry kept it simple and vague. This way he would not get caught that easily in contradictions. It also left him open to add or change details of his story as necessary, should he be questioned more thoroughly later on.

"I know that something is said to have happened at Privet Drive, though neither of my friends could tell me what. Do you know, Professor?" Harry tilted his head, gazing thoughtfully up to her. She was a thin woman, as tall as she was stern. There was not much difference in height between her and the Potions git. Harry could see the moment she got hold of her emotions and the stern Transfiguration teacher was back again.

"I'm not sure that I should be the one to tell you, Mr. Potter. I'm certain the Headmaster would like to talk to you himself." Her eyes widened only slightly and she pressed her lips together, barely visible, but Harry noticed.